No Intentions
by iviscrit
Summary: Clearly, the Slytherin bastard was rubbing off on her. Perhaps she was spending a bit too much time with him. Still, she had no intentions of stopping. For Sachita. TMR/MM. Please read and review!


GUYS I'M TIRED. Also I dedicate this to Sachita. Because she's amazing. ^_^

* * *

"I'm so tired."

"Are you?"

"Exhausted."

"Really."

"I don't want to go to work today."

"I completely understand."

Minerva let go of the Daily Prophet, letting it fall over her face and envelope her in its moist, inky scent. "Tom, I _don't_ want to work today. Not one bit."

He rolled his eyes, leaning back a bit in his chair. "You're being whiny."

"I'm going back to bed," she grumbled, dropping the paper and kicking off her shoes.

"Fancy another go?"

"I said '_I'm_ going to bed, not 'will you go to bed with me.'" She threw him a condescending look over her shoulder. "Don't sound so overeager."

"_Some_one can't take a joke."

"Someone _else_ has a lousy sense of humor." She dropped her handbag on the sofa, and shortly afterward Tom Riddle heard the bedroom door slam shut. Clearly, Minerva had gotten up on the wrong side of the bed... or as he liked to think, the side without him on it.

"Don't break my door," he called. There was no response, and he chuckled, picturing Minerva sprawled across the sheets, on her stomach with her shoulders and face turned to the side, legs apart with one knee to her chest, hair draping over her face. She probably hadn't bothered to change out of her work clothes, and had forgotten to send an message to the Ministry to inform them of her day off. He had no intentions to see for himself -though she always looked the most appealing half-awake the morning after. He had Death Eater duties to attend to that could not wait for a quick morning rendezvous that would doubtlessly require effort on his part to rouse her first. With that, he Disapparated.

o0o

Minerva was usually a morning person. But a combination of a Hogwarts alumni party, reconnecting with a series of old friends and acquaintances, connecting with Tom, and then connecting with Tom on a regular basis as recently as last night made this morning in particular seem like an unbearable punishment foisted upon her by a sadist. Never did she think that she'd be willing to call in sick just to take a day off and sleep in. The Slytherin bastard was rubbing off on her, apparently. Perhaps she was spending a bit too much time with him.

She had no intentions of stopping.

The door to his bedroom was still ajar, and the sheets were unchanged, a slight deviation from their usual cat-like fastidiousness. Physical exhaustion was a better motivator, though, and she had no inhibitions about flopping onto the bed and letting her eyes fall shut. The sheets smelled of him, and she smiled, realizing she was on his side. She wondered if hers was marked so obviously by her presence. She doubted it; she wasn't fond of overtly strong perfumes, settling instead for subtle, crisp scents like citrus or lavender. Besides, it was fitting for Tom. He always made an impression.

Minerva woke some time later, feeling less rested than she had hoped to feel, observing how the sunlight streamed through the window. How odd... Tom usually preferred the curtains drawn, to keep the light out. She sat up, and moved to draw the curtains over the glass again, when she noticed a discreet folder, illuminated by the unwelcome beam of light. Frowning, she reached for it, lifting it from Tom's nightstand and leaning against the headboard, letting the folder fall open against her knee. Pages of his neat script greeted her eyes, blurred by her presbyopia. Finding her glasses, she took another look at the folder, and felt the blood drain from her face. A sinking feeling manifested itself in the pit of her stomach, and ruefully she found herself remembering her father's quip when she told him she was a fully realized Animagus. "Curiousity killed the cat, my dear," Robert McGonagall had told her, and he couldn't have been more accurate. She looked around the room, sizing it up. She may as well push her curiosity to its limits, then; this would be the last of her overnight stays.

o0o

He found her showered and dressed when he returned home, seated in the kitchen with one hand hidden beneath the table in her lap. She made no move to get up and greet him, so he leaned down, kissing her hello. "Had a nice mental health day?"

"Very stimulating. I got a bit of reading out of the way that was long overdue," she said. "Yourself?"

"Nothing out of the ordinary," he replied. "Anything in particular in mind for tonight?"

"Actually," Minerva said, standing, "I really ought to get back to my place. 'Bye, Tom." She hooked one arm around his neck and gave him a lingering kiss, pressing something to his chest with her spare hand. In a moment she was gone, and he was left with a folder in his hand, glancing after her in confusion.

"Very abrupt of her," he said to himself, and turned his attention to the folder she had given him. His face darkened and his grip on the folder tightened, threatening to tear it. Dropping it on the table, he started for his room, his pace turning into a run as he entered the hallway. The door was open a crack, and pushing his way in, he stopped in his tracks a second time that day.

The windows were both open, the drapes pushed aside and fluttering in the evening breeze. The bed was neatly made, and both lamps on the nightstands were on. The room was filled with light, and as he turned about the room he realized she had enchanted his mirror, the paraphernalia on the bookcase, the Slytherin insignia on the wall, and the rest of the reflective apparatus in the room to glow with light. His room was no longer the dark asylum he had made it to be. It was incandescent. Crossing to the bed, he caught the light scent of citrus, spritzed on both the pillows. A brief but thorough inspection of the room indicated that she had taken no trophies with her. Still, he suspected she had no intentions of coming back.

Sitting on the bed, he frowned, an expression which slowly turned to a calculating smile. Well... he'd have to fix that.

FINIS...maybe

* * *

**A/N: Hey y'all! So, inspiration for this... I woke up early, and couldn't get back to sleep. Totally normal. So I started whining in my head, and that prompted a conversation like the one Tom and Minerva have in the beginning of this fic. Totally normal, right? **

**Anyway, I played around with this piece, and wrote it sort of as dialogue and symbolism practice in around forty minutes. Stay tuned for the sequel, "No Second Thoughts." Lemme know what you think with a review! :) **


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